


Can’t kill a Trashmouth

by eddieedsedoardokaspbrak



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Closed character, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspiration from cut scene, Internalised Homophobia, Self-Hatred, Suicide Attempt, This is not happy at all, it chapter 2 - Freeform, pre losers reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:35:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23937736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eddieedsedoardokaspbrak/pseuds/eddieedsedoardokaspbrak
Summary: “Kill me! Kill me? You couldn’t even kill yourself Trashmouth!” - PennywiseRichie had hit bottom, and he couldn’t see anyway out.
Kudos: 14





	Can’t kill a Trashmouth

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so yeah this is my first fic that I’ve wrote since 2013 (and that was Glee on ff.net ..). I’m extremely nervous about this, there might be major spelling and grammar and I apologise. I’m a dyslexic fuck but enjoy!

“Kill me! Kill me? You couldn’t even kill yourself Trashmouth!” - Pennywise 

Richie had hit bottom, and he couldn’t see anyway out. Every day was the same tell the same old tired jokes about how he fucks so many women he’s surprised he’s not won awards, to every night when he has found some young hot 20 something guy on grinder to throw him around whatever shit hole hotel room his manger has put him in. At least at night he got to have a few hours of pleasure even if they didn’t laugh at his jokes or rolled their eyes when he would talk about how he was in his 20s “Oh yeah I remember when I was 26 I was doing coke in the bathroom at some party, man I was out of my fucking mind!” He would laugh and whoever was the fun for the night would give a quick “Hmm.” while pulling out their phone to order a Uber home.

“You won’t tell anyone will you?” Richie was sitting up on the bed watching as the guy got dressed, what was his name? Mark? Dylan? He really couldn’t remember all he really cared about was getting manhandling by some southern gentleman with washboard abs. The young man snorted as he pulled on the last of his clothing “Do you really think I’d go around parading that I fucked Richie Tozier? Oh hey guys! Guess what see that shit comedian who always talks about fucking women! He’s a closet case who takes it up the ass!” Richie opened his mouth but nothing came out, it truly felt like the first time the Trashmouth had been quiet in a long time. He closed his mouth and nodded pulling the scratchy bed cover over his still exposed chest, he could feel the tears prick the back of his eyes but he would be damned if he would cry in front of this asshole. “Do you need money for a cab?” he whispered he didn’t trust his own voice not to give away every single emotion that was flying through his mind. The other man scoffed and stood up grabbing his phone from the bedside table “I think I can pay for my own cab.” and with a slam of the door he was gone.

That was 11pm when he left it was now 2am, Richie couldn’t sleep he kept tossing and turning ‘Am I really shit?’ He thought to himself as he made his way to the bathroom, he splashed some water on his face and stared at his reflection ‘Well that’s a stupid fucking question Tozier you’re shit. You’ve had the same jokes for the past 5 years but it brings money in so what’s the point in changing it up because your a scared little faggot.’ He could feel the tears sting his eyes ‘Oh hey look another crying session just like last night! And the night before and that night before that.’ 

He couldn’t even top himself right, didn’t want to go hanging because ‘TMZ gets a hold of that it just makes it seem like it was a sex act gone wrong.’ Didn’t want to jump off anything ‘Don’t want mom to have identity a pile of mush or a bloated corpse.’ He wasn’t far from the beach he could put rocks in his pockets and walked out into the sea ‘Who do you think you’re Virgina Woolf?’ It’s funny waking up after taking a couple of pills washing them down with some of the god awful booze from the mini bar and a few slashes to the arm ‘It was meant to be up not down dumbass.’ it feels like it should be the end but somehow Richie woke up with headache and arm he had to get treated ‘Would have to make sure no one would recognise me, can’t risk this getting out.’ 

Richie Tozier had found himself somewhere lower than bottom, and he wasn’t sure he would ever get out of it.


End file.
